


The Red Rose of Highgarden

by Sunnytyler001



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-07
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 03:32:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunnytyler001/pseuds/Sunnytyler001
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU A Storm of Swords- Sansa has wed Loras who is not part of the Kingsguard instead of being betrothed to Willas Tyrell. Five years later, she's still a maiden and Margaery advises her to take a lover...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

This was not what Sansa had dreamed of. She had hoped for a beautiful wedding. But they had had no time for this. They had to keep it a secret. Only the Queen of Thorns and Garlan Tyrell had been witnesses to it. It had been rushed and far from the romantic vision Sansa had imagined it would be. Her groom had looked beautiful, dashing as always but his eyes were sad, melancholic. He had looked at her during the ceremony, but Sansa had felt that he was not seeing her. Lost in his thoughts, her new husband had not even kissed her!

Of course, he had been very courteous once they arrived at Highgarden and everyone seemed to love her.

Sansa recalled her first night in her new room. How nervous she had been, waiting for her valiant knight to come and sleep by her side.

No one had come.

No one had ever come.

After five years of marriage, Sansa was still a maiden and was starting to wonder if something was wrong with her until she had a very interesting but shocking conversation with her new sister, Margaery.

The older woman had asked her why she seemed so miserable and Sansa had hesitated before answering sincerely.

“As you should know, Loras doesn’t …” Sansa hadn’t dared look at Margaery as she finished her sentence, “… share my bed”.

Her sister had laughed at her blushing and had taken her hand in hers.

“Oh, sweetling, you still don’t know then?” she had asked sweetly.

Sansa had frowned and looked at her quizzically. What in the Maiden’s name did she mean? Sansa had asked herself.

Margaery had smiled softly to her, trying to hide her amusement in front of so much innocence.

“Loras has nothing against you, Sansa. I do believe he loves you sincerely, but his tastes are… different from other men”.

Sansa hadn’t quite understood. ‘Tastes different from other men’? What could this possibly mean?

Seeing that she still hadn’t got the point, Margaery had had to make herself clearer, even if she had been trying to spare Sansa’s sweet innocence.

“Sansa, dear, my brother likes the company of other men.”

Sansa had gasped loudly, shocked by such a revelation.

But now, it all seemed clear or rather, it created more questions in her mind. The way her   
Lord husband looked at some of his fellow knights. She had always thought it was admiration. Was it more? Something less platonic? An indication of his real desires?

Tonight, once again, she saw him looking at a man with a certain flame in his eyes.

It was a singer called Andreï. Sansa found him extremely pretty, his blonde hair falling to his shoulders in a golden cascade and his voice was enchanting.

Loras seemed very much taken by his songs. Knowing her husband’s tastes now, Sansa was starting to wonder if he did not just find the singer himself as beautiful as his songs…

Once the night had fallen and she found herself alone in her room with only Margaery for company, Sansa dared taking their conversation back where they had left it a few days earlier.

“What about the singer Andreï?” Sansa heard herself asking. She was astonished by her own forwardness, but the revelation of her husband’s true nature made her want to know more.  
Margaery laughed out loud, but still in a very lady-like manner. Sansa was surprised to see a wicked grin on her beautiful face.

“Andreï is not Loras’ lover, sweetling.” Her sister’s eyes sparkled and it seemed that her cheeks reddened a little as she confessed: “He is mine.”

Sansa ought to find this news as shocking as her husband’s tastes, but it seemed that nothing would ever surprise her anymore. The Tyrells had quite their own morality rules.   
Well, Sansa thought bitterly, it is better than beheading innocent people or beating maidens just for the pleasure of it.

Lost in her thoughts, Sansa realized that Margaery was looking at her with a gleam in her eyes. Obviously, she had an idea in mind. Sansa felt nervous. She wasn’t sure she wanted to have any part in her plans. However, the Tyrells were her new family and she wanted to fit in, didn’t she? She wanted to be accepted and all those secret affairs were much sweeter than the mailed fists of the Kingsguard’s false knights.

“Sansa, I think you should have a lover too!”

Sansa jumped in surprise. Yes, after all those revelations, Margaery had still found a way to surprise her. And her suggestion had astonished her more than anything she had ever told her.

A lover?!

The idea of Margaery having a lover was quite scandalous but still acceptable. After all, Margaery was a widow. She was beautiful and still very young. It seemed natural to Sansa than men would desire her and that she would elect one of her suitors as her heart’s champion.

But her? This was unthinkable! Septa Mordane would rise from her grave to come and scold her.

“Margaery,” Sansa whispered sweetly, “you cannot think of this! I am a married woman! Think of your brother’s honour!”

“My brother’s honour doesn’t depend upon the way you spend your nights, dear Sansa.”

Her septa and her mother had taught her differently, but Sansa didn’t want to displease her good friend.

“Besides, I have to confess you something…,” Margaery started mysteriously, “I want nephews!”

Sansa giggled girlishly, amused by Margaery’s sudden wish for her to fill the quiet corridors of Highgarden with babies.

“Doesn’t Ser Garlan have children?” Sansa asked, once she had calmed her hilarity.

“Oh yes!” Margaery answered with a sad sigh “But they’re as ugly as their mother. And boring.”

She winked at Sansa and took her hand in hers once again.

“Your children would be beautiful, I am sure, and full of life! That’s what we need here!”

Sansa nodded softly, but she was still quiet embarrassed. Was Margaery really expecting her to take a lover and bear his children? This was so scandalous!

“You know, Sansa, moon tea has an awful taste. But I don’t have a choice, I can’t have bastards.”

But she could? Or would Loras really recognize her children as his? What kind of man would accept such a thing?

However, as Sansa kept on thinking about it, it seemed fair. After all, her mother had to accept Jon Snow after her father came back with him. If a wife could accept her husband’s bastards in her home, why wouldn’t a gallant husband accept his wife’s pups as his own?

“Now, tell me sweetling, what kind of men do you like?” Margaery asked. She had once more her wicked smile. Sansa was starting to acknowledge this smile as the one of “the love affairs”. Her friend used to seem so sweet when she had first met her in Kingslanding. But now, Sansa was starting to wonder if her maidenhead had been indeed broken by horseback-riding.

“Tall and strong? And courteous, I suppose.” Margeary continued, with a dreamy voice. Was she trying to picture her with her future lover? And worse, was she going to pick her suitor?

Sansa had always thought that a woman, if she ever did something as scandalous- but oh so romantic-, should choose herself her own lover. Jonquil had chosen Florian on her own, after all.

As for a courteous lover, Sansa wasn’t so sure this was a priority anymore. Courtesy and lies and secrets seemed too close to each other in her mind.

“I’d rather he were honest. I want to look at him and know for sure he’s telling me the truth.”

Margaery raised her perfect eyebrows, obviously surprised by her wishes, but nodded thoughtfully.

“But, yes, you’re right; I would like him to be tall and strong… I would like to feel safe in his arms.”

Sansa closed her eyes and let her own imagination take control over her mouth. She was dreaming of her perfect knight and she was telling it all to Margaery. Perfect? Oh no, he wouldn’t be perfect but she would read in his grey eyes his deep love for her. Yes, grey eyes and dark hair, just like the Stark.

Just like… Sansa sighed. There was no point in thinking of him, was there? But the idea of a dark haired and grey-eyed lover seemed good.

“If my lover has the looks of a Stark, people won’t wonder about my children’s looks. They will suppose they’re taking after my family instead of the Tyrells.”

Margaery let a laugh escape her. “My dear sister, no one would ever guess this is the first   
time you thought of taking a lover. You speak wisely. And I think I have your man!”

Her friend’s words took her out of her daydream. Really? She had already found a lover for her? That was quick… and it scared Sansa a little. She didn’t feel ready to welcome a man who wasn’t her husband into her bed, even if it was with everyone’s blessing.

And this man, what would he think of her? There were some noble ladies of this kind in the songs. They were temptresses, trying to seduce the true knights into their rooms … for more than kisses.

But the true knights always pushed them away, judging them for their improper ways. Was she one of those wanton ladies now? Had she fallen so low?

“Yes, I’ve got your man,” Margaery kept on, ignoring Sansa’s troubles with her conscience, “but it will cost me a little… But I don’t care. If you like him, I’m willing to pay him for the rest of my days. Consider him a gift from your dearest friend.”

“Pardon?” Sansa swallowed at those words. Had she understood well? Was the man Margaery had picked as the father of her future children a… whore?

And did male whores even exist? Well, obviously they did… and she was about to meet one, as his client.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

This was bloody not what Sandor had thought his life would be. The Quiet Isle had been attacked six months earlier. The outlaws had killed everyone and stolen everything. Sandor didn’t know how he survived but this was once again proof there were no gods.   
Letting good and wise men like the Elder Brother have their throats slit while he got away?

If there were any gods, they surely had no sense of justice. But of course, he knew that already.

So now, he was homeless. And what is a buggering crippled brother supposed to do if he wants to eat and drink every day?

Well, that was the fucking question!

He had always thought that people were supposed to open their homes and feed men of the Faith so they would pray for their damned souls. Well, those buggering peasants were as greedy as they were ugly.

On the other side, he could understand. The endless wars had brought more poverty and starvation to the mob.

But was it a reason to starve poor brothers?

Hells yes, Sandor thought bitterly. If he had been in their place, he would have cut him to pieces just for daring to ask for the food they needed so much.

Men of the Faith were parasites, useless bastards, and nothing else.

So he had decided to make himself useful. But by doing what? All his life, he had trained to kill his brother. A killing machine, heartless and pitiless, that’s what he was. But now, he was just a broken machine.

He had thought of working in a cemetery. After all, he did have some experience digging graves and with the wars and famine, the work was abundant. But after nearly five years living with the dead on the bloody Isle, Sandor couldn’t stand the sight of a tomb.

He could have found employment as a smith, but he still had quite a fright at the sight of flames.

One night, he had entered a hostel and decided to get drunk. Of course, he had remembered his promise to the Elder Brother: never touch a bottle of wine or ale again. But the buggering brother was dead anyway, so he could take his word with him to the seventh hell.

He had needed wine… Wine he hadn’t had any money to pay for. The owner of the place had been watching him from the corner of his eye since he had walked in, ready to throw him out. A small man, he was, and thin as straw.

Ha! Like he would have been able to move him an inch! But, as the buggering idiot had been coming his way, a young lady had stopped him and gave him a piece of gold. Quite enough to pay for all the wine he had already drunk, and more if he wanted.

She had smiled at him, before sitting on his lap. The Hound had been surprised at first and had wanted to push her away, but it had been so long since he had had a woman…

She had brown hair. He had wanted auburn. She had pretty green eyes. He had wanted Tully blue. She had forward manners. He had wanted a courteous bird.

Damn him! He still wanted her, didn’t he? When would he ever stop? Sandor didn’t know. He was quite sure he would never stop. That girl was in his blood, he had her under his skin and there was no cure for that, not even five years of grave digging.

Still, he had the brown-haired girl in one of the rooms of the hostel. The girl had seemed pleased with his ‘performance’, if he could call it that, and had decided to give him a few more golden coins.

Sandor had wanted to strangle the woman for her insolence but she had laughed at him.

“Oh, please, Sandy… Can I call you Sandy? Don’t act like an upset maiden! Consider this your… wine-money? Beer-money? Whatever you want!”

“I am no whore, woman!” He had growled at her, furious. He had had his share of whores enough to know he was not of one. He would rather die than fall so low.

However, if he had been able to, he would have sold his sword to anyone. To sell his sword or to sell his cock, what was the difference? And the second could be quite pleasurable if the lady was fair.

“But look at my face! I am a freaking monster! I don’t understand why you wanted to fuck with me in the first place! And worse: pay for it!”

The lady had laughed at him once again and let her hands wander on his board chest.

“Well, yes, your face is not pretty,” she admitted “but you still have the body of a warrior. You are heavily muscled and fit… And, you know, some ladies like a bit of dirt.   
Your bad manners might excite them, if you see what I mean?”

The wicked woman had winked at him, her mind obviously full of dirty thoughts. Aye, he saw what she meant, but the ladies in King’s Landing had never been fond of him.

Hells, the little bird had feared him so much. He remembered how much she had trembled whenever he was around her. Those had not been shivers of pleasure but of buggering terror.

Sandor had sighed to himself. He shouldn’t have threatened her with a bloody knife. If only he had been less drunk!

His companion for the evening had jumped on the bed once more, obviously trying to cheer him up and had given him an open-mouth kiss before grabbing her clothes. Before leaving him, she had told him her name: “Linna Hill.”

Ah, a bastard, not a real lady then; this explained the wanton attitude.

“I work for Lady Margaery Tyrell. She likes her lovers a bit more refined than you are, but… some of her friends have different tastes.”

That woman was truly shameless!

“If you’re interested in starting a new career, Sandor Clegane, you know where to find me!” she told him before closing the door.

He would have thrown the blooding bedding at her head if his leg hadn’t been so painful that day.

Damn her.

But he had accepted it, eventually. No more training in the rain and the mud like he used to. He did still train, but not to fight, just to stay fit and healthy. No more bedding of straw but the softest sheets of the finest silk. There were benefits in fucking ladies and a dog did enjoy his comfort.

He had a few encounters with friends of Lady Margaery. Some ladies were quite pretty, but none as beautiful as his little bird.

Being a whore was actually quite pleasant work, even if some of the women had strange tastes. Hell, they wanted him in their beds. Sandor had only two possible explanations to this: those ladies were crazy or their husbands were eunuchs.

However, he never thought he would one day meet the lady herself. She had always sent her friends to him, in the hostel’s room she was renting for him but she had never made contact with him.

Nevertheless the lady had not come for her own pleasure. She had actually come to discuss business with him.

“Lord Clegane, I have a new client for you.” she said, while sitting in front of him.

“Another of your wanton friends?” He asked. He had tried not to sound too hard. After all, it was thanks to those ladies’ needs he could live, but he couldn’t help his nature and,   
after all, honesty was the only thing he had left.

However, Lady Margaery didn’t seem shocked by his insolence. Quite the contrary, she smiled at him and shook her head negatively.

“The woman in question is quite young. She is married but still a maiden.”

Ah, Sandor thought with a laugh, another eunuch.

“She is a very courteous, sweet, lady. I will ask you not to be too tough with her.”

Sandor had shrugged. “In that case, why ask me? Don’t you have someone more fitted for that girl? Some singer, maybe?”

“I thought about that, but when I asked her what her tastes in men were, her description was strangely close to you”

The Hound raised his eyebrows in surprise and burst out laughing. Seriously? He was the man of some maid’s dreams? Of course, with an eunuch as a husband, the woman would go crazy…

And she would dream of something between her thighs, wouldn’t she?

“So, where do I meet this blushing bride? Or will she come to the hostel?” Sandor asked while enjoying his wine.

“This is not your usual client, Lord Clegane. Actually, I talked about this with my brother Willas and…”

“Willas Tyrell? Is this a family business or something? Do you discuss all of your clients with the rest of your thorny roses?”

“Not at all” Lady Margaery replied, keeping her calm and not at all affected by his bad manners. “This is a family affair, actually. Your client is my sister-in-law.”

Sandor felt quite lost by this revelation. He didn’t know much about the Tyrell family, or rather, he lost touch with the noble’s world when he deserted the Lannisters at the Battle of Blackwater bay. He remembered that Garlan Tyrell had married a Fossoway maid, but they did have children. Had Willas gotten married while he was on the Quiet Isle? It was the only possibility. Obviously, the freaking Knight of Flowers could not possibly have gotten married.

“She is Loras’ wife.”

Oh bugger. He did.

Sandor laughed loudly at this and couldn’t stop himself even when lady Margaery threw him a reproachful look.

Well, that explained why the poor girl was still a maid. Her darling husband was most likely fucking his squire in the stables while his poor little wife was waiting for him all night long. What a laugh. No wonder the lady was willing to lie with a dog like him now.

“I think you must know her,” Margaery continued thoughtfully, “after all, you were her betrothed’s sworn shield in Kingslanding.”

This caught Sandor’s attention. He had never been sworn shield to any Tyrell. Actually, he had only worked for House Lannister as Joff’s sworn shield. And Joff’s betrothed had been…

No. It could not be her.

Sandor felt dazed. Thunderstruck. He barely saw Lady Margaery rise from her seat.

“From now on, you will officially work in Highgarden’s Sept. And Lady Sansa will wait for you in her rooms.”

This surely had to be a jest. Never would the little bird allow him to bed her. This only happened in his fevered dreams, not in the real world.

But she had described him to Lady Margaery as the man she wanted? No, this couldn’t be true.

“Does she know I am the man she will be waiting?” Sandor asked, nervous for the first time in his life.

Lady Margaery smiled softly at him.

“No, she does not. But you know each other and I thought it would make it easier for her.”

Easier for her? Sandor didn’t think so. And it certainly wouldn’t be easy for him either.

What was he going to tell her? He surely would have to apologize for that night. For the knife. For sleeping drunk in her bed. For everything.

Bugger it. He was bad at apologizing. Awful, even. He would never find the right words.

Lady Margaery seemed to look him over from head to feet, inspecting him as he had been some horse she wanted to buy, before nodding. Obviously the woman was mad. Sweet-looking, but out-of-her-wits. Sansa would never let him touch her. If she ever saw him again, she’d scream and ask her precious husband to kill him.

“Yes, I think you’ll do,” Lady Margaery kept on, lost in her thoughts. Then she giggled as if she had been a fucking little girl, plotting some wicked conspiracy, “Oh, I can’t wait to see the puppies!”

The puppies?

Seven hells!!!


End file.
